


The Last Five Years

by Capableofbeingterrible



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Last five years au, Les Mis - Freeform, Les Miserables - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, enjoltaire - Freeform, victor hugo would love this the big slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capableofbeingterrible/pseuds/Capableofbeingterrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire were so in love. Until they weren't. How did five years end so quickly?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Still Hurting

Strange that a place once so welcoming and warm could become a place so hollow. So alone. But it's appropriate, Grantaire guessed. Picking surroundings that act as a self-reflection has always been a habit for him. 

It's just... He'd never thought about this part. The after. His mind had been full for the past months of when would it end, when would the hurting stop, when would the nightmare be over, but now that it'd come, he realized that it would never be over. 

The echoes were there in that place, although the screaming had long since stopped. Everywhere he looked it was Enjolras, though he'd long since left. Enjolras, with his golden hair and his blinding smile was probably out living his life once again, finally free of the clinging parasite that was Grantaire. Enj was probably doing just fine. And he... He was still hurting.

At this thought, Grantaire stood, grabbing at his wine bottle as he went. Enjolras, with his marble smile that didn't reach his eyes, Enjolras with his cold touch meant to placate not comfort, with his smooth lies that came so easily. Lies that Grantaire believed so readily because he wanted to so badly. Lies that let Enjolras leave him behind like it was nothing. 

The bottle hit the wall at an alarming speed. The glass shattered and the bit of wine left sprayed against the exposed brick in a fountain. The sudden noise let Grantaire let go of the shout he was holding in, and it echoed off the walls, sounding hollow as ever. Grantaire's voice cracked into a sob, and he sunk to his knees. How was he supposed to do this? 

Flashing through his mind were memories he didn't want. Words he wished he could take back. "Go, that's fine, I don't care. Run away from this, from me, from everything! Find someone better, that's what you so clearly want! So why the fuck are you still here?"

"Grantaire?" 

His head snapped up, looking for a mess of blonde curls or a hint of red. Instead he saw Joly, wrapped in his usual blue scrubs. He looked back down.

Joly didn't say anything else, just came and sat in front of his friend on the cold empty floor. Grantaire knew he should talk, should say he's okay, or something equally untruthful, but Joly was too smart for that. He went for the truth, however pathetic it might be.

"I keep thinking... I wish I could just have one more day with him. It doesn't even matter if it's... I would take one of the days where my mind was fucking me up so bad I couldn't get out of bed, I don't care if it's one of the nights he came back too late, a day we fought, a day we ignored each other. I would take him lying right to my face, I don't care. I just- wish- I wish he was-"

"Shhh, I know," Joly hugged him tight. When had he started blubbering? He let himself be hugged, even though it made him feel weak and stupid and- 

"Shit." Grantaire pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids, as if he applied enough pressure, those kinds of thoughts would stop attacking him from all sides. "I just, fuck, what am I supposed to do? Look at me, I'm a mess, I'm goddamn- ruined!"

"You're not-"

"Joly, look at me! There is nothing about me that isn't broken, I'm a shitshow, even more than I was! And I keep going back to wishing it could be back to the way it was and it doesn't help because I know that nothing, ever, will make it any better! Nothing can make us work! Nothing can make it okay again." 

Joly didn't know what to say. For once, the babbling, bubbling life of the party had nothing to say. Grantaire just sat with his head bowed, wishing for all in the world that the floor would open it up and swallow him whole, so he wouldn't have to keep trying to not think about things. 

"My friend, I am so sorry that you are in this situation." Joly whispered gently, giving him a tight hug. 

Oh yeah. This situation. How the fuck did he get in this situation? How did he get here when things were so perfect? He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on Enjolras, the first time they kissed, how it felt when his whole world was bathed in Enjolras's light. His world was so bright. So how did it get so dark?


	2. Shegetz God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains anal sex, so if you're not into that, you can skip to after the ---, there's talking without sex, you won't lose any plot without the smut :). Notes at the end.

"I'm breaking my mother's heart!" Enjolras moaned, giggling his way through the pleasure he felt at Grantaire's tongue all over his neck. R took this moment to suck at the corner of his jaw, eliciting a deeper moan that sent a tingle down his spine and made him arch off the wall he was using for support. "I'm breaking my mother's heart!" He sighed. Enjolras tugged Grantaire back up to face him, his mouth split in a huge grin that met Grantaire's smirk. God, that smirk killed him. E tried his best to wipe it off his face, crushing his lips against his in a kiss that was sloppy and wet, more tongue than any structure would allow, but it did the trick. When he pulled away, Grantaire was breathless, his reddened lips parted slightly as he breathed. 

"God, Enjolras, could you please stop talking about your mother?"

Fuck yes he could. He grabbed at Grantaire's shoulders, pushing him roughly toward the bed, which of course brought back the smirk. Enjolras couldn't help but smile at the image, at the image of this man, this man in his bed! He tugged at layer after layer of his own clothing, watching as Grantaire's eyes widened, the pupils dilating in lust that was no doubt mirrored in his. Jacket off, button-up more ripped off than unbuttoned, undershirt thrown aside, why did he have so many layers? 

Once again, Grantaire seemed to be thinking the same thing. He scrambled up to help Enjolras with his pants, having rid himself of his clothing with much more efficiency. As he undid the buckle and pushed his pants to his ankles, he kissed his hipbones, pecking lightly and quickly like he was in a mad dash to get his lips on every inch of Enjolras. This of course, caused another groan and giggle, and he pushed Grantaire away after he had worked off his briefs. R's eyes immediately went to his, questioning and hurt as Enjolras guided him with a small smile to lay across the bed, then proceeded to stand a couple feet away from the bed, the smile having faded to a more pensive gaze as he stood absorbing the scene.

"Anything wrong, Apollo?" He asked nervously, propping himself up on an elbow. Enjolras came out of his trance with a start, that manic grin slipping back onto his face.

"What? Fine, I'm- oh I'm absolutely- more than fine." 

"Oh, okay. For a second there, I thought you were seeing all my glaring character flaws, or something," It was said with a friendly air, but there was a bit of an edge to it that Enjolras didn't not like at all.

"Trust me, Grantaire, there is absolutely no 'character flaw' that would pull me away from you right now." He said seriously, crawling on top of him. He felt a bolt of electricity up his whole body as their crotches touched, pressing his body flush against him in an attempt to be totally immersed in that feeling. Grantaire actually looked a bit apprehensive now, so he pressed sweet kisses along his chest, muttering as he went along. "Seriously, R, any secrets you want to divulge? Secretly a conman? A woman? Related to Napoleon?" This had bought him enough time enough to travel up to Grantaire's Adam's apple, and he spent a time there, relishing in R's bubbling laugh at his words that was cut off by a sharp intake of breath at the suction he was applying. 

R gave a pointed roll of his hips that made Enjolras grind down mercilessly back, saying with a rough voice, "Pretty sure I'm not a woman,"

Enjolras would have to agree. "Although," he continued to thrust his hips with increasing fervor, "-there'd be nothing wrong with that, of course, if you were- I mean, it's not like I'm saying that that's a bad thing-"

"Apollo," Grantaire gasped out, his hand closing firmly around Enjolras's dick firmly, "I don't give a shit."

Their conversation got a lot less wordy from that moment on. E didn't allow himself to be jacked off for very long before he reached into his nightstand and grabbed a condom and lube. He continued, every once in a while, to keep muttering off his list of things that Grantaire could have that he would be completely fine with. (Tattoos? Criminal past? History with aristocracy? Three nipples? Vampire? A van doubling as a house? Bring it on. He'd had to date so many other people that were just not Grantaire, that was just not fair!) 

Most of that kind of ceased after Enjolras put a finger up Grantaire's ass. All he could do then was listen to R's breaths, his gasps and moans, watch the sweat roll down his chest and his back arch up off the bed when he added a second finger. Scissoring made him whine, positively whine, in a way that was adorable and so hot that Enjolras couldn't wait any more. He took his fingers out and replaced them with himself quick enough to make Grantaire's hand in his hair tighten considerably, his face contorting into an expression of the kind of immeasurable pleasure that Enjolras wanted to remember for the rest of his life.

"You look fucking- beautiful," was all the eloquence that he could muster at the moment. At this, Grantaire let out a bark of laughter, urging him to keep thrusting, to which of course he obliged. His lips found R's again, and they bit and tore at each other's mouths viciously, the line between pain and pleasure swirled distractingly together. It was Grantaire that came first, his back arching up and head snapping back as he shouted out. The sight of Grantaire coming apart so seamlessly because of him pushed Enjolras over the edge, so that they were soon both recovering, panting, clinging to each other through the sweat and stick that they couldn't seem to care about. 

\---

Enjolras did finally get back the sense to take off the condom and grab a washcloth from the bathroom to clean them both up, which was in itself a religious experience. His hands were slow and gentle when they grazed Grantaire's skin. He tried to remember every detail of this man's body, the thought running through his head that it was just so unfair that in all of his life, no one he'd done this with had ever been Grantaire. And he couldn't fathom the thought of ever wanting to do it with someone else again. What would be the point? Without the black curls, the deep moans, the sarcastic comments, the smirk? Why had no one else in his life ever been Grantaire?

The problem with excited Enjolras was that excited Enjolras had the tendency to babble. So babble he did, in a soft tone he wasn't sure he could remember ever using before. "You know, after I got your number, I sat staring at my phone for hours at a time. It was a problem, I almost got kicked out of class."

He could feel Grantaire's chuckle through the hand that was still resting on his stomach. "Really?"

"Really. I was too nervous to call you for a while. I mean, look at you. Have you heard you? Have you seen you? You're... I'm rambling again." Another chuckle.

"You do that a lot." He blushed, remembering just how much he'd talked in the last half hour. "No, no, it's- cute." This time, it was Grantaire that blushed although why, Enjolras had no idea. The fact that he found the person he just had sex with cute shouldn't be too much a point of embarrassment. "You seemed pretty fixated on figuring out if I was an aristocrat, though." He didn't wait for Enjolras's reply before continuing. "No need to worry though. I've never been one for money."

"Did you grow up here?" He asked, shifting his weight so that he could prop himself on his elbow to look at Grantaire.

"Nah. I grew up in one of those cookie-cutter suburban hells where everybody but my family was growing money out their ass." Enjolras waited patiently as Grantaire sighed and attempted to smirk at the memory, failing miserably before his green eyes met blue ones. "My old man died in the service and the government pretty much hung us out to dry. Not much my mom could do; even working three jobs she didn't have enough to get all the shit my siblings and I needed... Fuck, I'm really good at date-talk aren't I?" He ducked his head with a self-deprecating laugh. 

Enjolras shook his head, using a finger to turn R's chin back toward him before going in for a long, soft kiss. He stayed quiet after he pulled apart, their noses close enough to touch. Again he got that thoughtful look on his face as a small smile dawned across his lips. "I should write you." 

"Write me?" Oh, how he loved that eyebrow raise. 

"Your story. That's what I do. I write about sins that should be atoned for, try to give a voice to the problems that matter to the people. If the government is called out on their transgressions, they can't ignore the people they've wronged."

The eyebrows were both raised now, all but lost in the mass of curly hair atop Grantaire's head, his lips pressed into a disbelieving smile. "That's a lot of talk, Apollo."

"Talk that I will turn into action." Oh no, that sounded like his usual tone of severe, cold even. He moved on. "Why do you keep calling me Apollo?" 

R full on smirked again, relief flashing across his eyes at Enjolras's change in tone. "Look at you. Have you seen yourself?" He mocked, bringing back Enjolras' own words. "You're a total Apollo. Greek god body, hair of the sun, fire in your eyes. Apollo." 

Enjolras frowned, thinking. "Well, what about you? You're-"

"Me? I'm no god, Enjolras. You need to jump down a few levels to find where I am. Not even a follower... I'm more of a Shegetz." By the more sinister glint in his eye, Enjolras could tell that the word pleased him. Like it had just enough venom for his taste.

He decided to ignore it. "Shegetz God." He muttered, stroking a finger across his cheekbone. "My Shegetz God." Grantaire scoffed, but a little grin lit up his face, and the darkness that had crept up disappeared just as quickly as it'd come. Enjolras watched it, the absurd thought crossing his mind that maybe he could do this every day of his life, make Grantaire smile like this. He could do that. Funny, the thought of spending the rest of his life with someone had never been appealing before, the idea of falling in love even too idealist for him to entertain, but with someone like Grantaire... He had the wonderful feeling that he could be in love with someone like Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! FYI, Shegetz is the male equivalent of Shiksa, so that's the title (probably wouldn't be as catchy of a song but I digress)!


	3. See? I'm Smiling

His hand was right there.  Three inches, maybe less.  Enjolras reached for it, watching the stiff muscles in Grantaire's back for a reaction.  The hand jerked slightly back, muscles tightening as Grantaire flinched and turned to look at him.  The birds chirped, the sun shone, dragonflies danced over the lake, and his husband was a stranger.  A stranger whose green eyes were tired and guarded but a stranger who stayed closely pressed to his side regardless.

Enjolras didn't know what he wanted.  He was here, wasn't he?  Grantaire sighed.  He clearly expected something.  He  _always_ expected something.  "The others were beginning to think I'd made you up."  A pause.  "I was too."  He said simply, glancing at Enjolras before directing his gaze back to the lake, which was apparently stunningly interesting.

"I don't know what that  _means_ , Grantaire."  Grantaire snorted.  That fucking snort.  How had he once found it attractive?  "Look, I don't know what you want me to do.  What have I done wrong this time?  What have I done to make you so unhappy?"

Grantaire's jaw set, finally looking at his husband.  "Unhappy?  What would make you say that?"  He looked miserable.  Sounded miserable too.  He put on a grin that was far more like a grimace.  "See?  I'm smiling."

Enjolras just sighed.  His voice sounded almost as weary as he felt.  " _I don't know what that means._ "

There was a silence between them.  The challenge in Grantaire's eyes faded and he relaxed, looking down and pressing his lips to Enjolras's hand in his.  "It means I'm happy that you're here."  He murmured.  An intake of breath showed he wanted to continue, wanted to say something, but he pulled the move that Enjolras was so familiar with instead: a joke to push away problems, to try to cover the shadow that hung over his eyes and made his shoulders droop like they were weighted down.  "I stole this sweater from Mrs. Robertson, the old lady?  It started a feud between her and the other old lady; no one suspected little old me.  Yesterday, she snuck a rotten fish into Robertson's purse."

Enjolras laughed. "Everyone underestimates your love of horrible sweaters."  He said, the soft smile on his face spreading to create a matching one on Grantaire's.

"I think we're going to be okay."  Now it was coming to what he wanted to say.  "I mean, we'll have to try a little harder.  Bend things to and fro."  He illustrated by rocking against Enjolras.  "But we can make this, us, special again.  Like it was five years ago."  A pause.  "Heh, that rhymed."  He squeezed Enj's hand.  "I think you'll like the exhibit this year.  I mean, the kids are iffy, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't suck."  Enj laughed, and Grantaire kissed him, dragging him to his feet fro a walk along the pier.  "We can both be dicks, Enj.  We know that.  But we have a whole weekend that's going to be fantastic and all us.  We can work on us.  Bonding and shit."  Taire poked him in the ribs with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Enjolras's grin faded.  "R, I'm so sorry.  I can't stay this weekend."  Worse than the abrupt slackening of all the excitement in Grantaire's body, he could feel the enthusiasm fade to disappointment.  "It's this  _stupid_ house meeting, but I couldn't get out of it."

Grantaire pressed his lips together and stepped back, nodding as he tried to hide his emotions and failing.  "I didn't know you had to leave so soon."  He replied, the words clipped and robotic.  "I just- thought we had more time.  Enjolras reached out to him, trying to grab ahold of his arms.  Grantaire took another step back.  "Look, whatever.  I mean, you have to.  So, whatever.  It's alright."  He stopped finally, letting Enjolras envelop him in a hug.  His next words seemed to be more to himself than Enjolras.  "We have tonight." 

_Shit._

"Fuck.  Okay,  I tried to get a plain ticket for tomorrow, but-"  His shoulders tensed. "There- there were none available; the only one I could get was for tonight."  Grantaire backed away from him.  His head didn't tip itself back up to look at Enjolras, instead looking at the ground behind him as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.   _Fuck_.  "Um.  I can come back on Monday... if you want...?"  Grantaire walked right past him, deciding once again that the lake was more worthy of his gaze.  He could feel the tension as if it were a palpable entity.  He waited.  He waited. And eventually the tension got to be too much.

"You know what makes me crazy?"  Enjolras sighed.   _"No._   _Can I say this?_ "  He spun around to face him again.  "Just - what makes me crazy?  Is that we could be together,  _here together_ , but you are choosing to go!  To be with someone else-"

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are!  That's exactly what you're doing!  You could be here with me.  Or you could be there with them.  As usual, guess who wins?"

"Grantaire, it's business, I  _need to_ -"

" _No!_ No, you know what?  You do  _not_ need to go to a  _meeting_ with the same twenty fucking people you already know!  If you really cared about me, you know what you could do? You could be with your husband on his fucking birthday.  Maybe, just maybe, you could see his work!"

"Grantaire!"  

The venom in his voice grew as he went, so that he was practically spitting the words out as Enjolras started to advance on him trying to calm him, to stop him, to make him  _see._ "But I know, that it would just drive  _you_ crazy, if you didn't get to play with your fucking boyfriends! So please go ahead!  Go!"

"Grantaire, I'm not-"

"NO!"  He shouted, finally standing his ground.  It shocked Enjolras into stopping his own advancements, staring wide-eyed at the veins pulsing in his arms as he clenched his fist and held his jaw taut.  When  he spoke, his voice was quiet and shaking, like it was taking all of his energy to keep it so. "Enjolras, you can't spend even  _one day_ that is not about you!  You, you and your articles and your essays and your books and your hair!  Enjolras, the writer in red, the marble lover of liberty, the savior of the broken!  Look at him go!  Best sellers' list three years in a row!  Humanitarianism awards!  Breaking through glass ceilings everywhere!  Forging a new road, a huge success, making his life worth something!  And I-"  He gasped, tears pouring down his cheeks and his face flushed in anger.  Enjolras stood watching him as he heaved, his breathing gradually becoming less labored as closed his eyes and concentrated. His gaze hardened, and his jaw tightened and stilled once more as he looked up at Enjolras.  

"I don't get it.  How-"  His voice shook.  "How can you just stand there, so tall and mighty, as I-"  He gestured violently down at himself, a sniffle making the tearstreaks still on his face even more apparent.  "See?  I'm crying."  Enjolras just stared at him, his expression steadfast and unreadable.  Grantaire's eyebrows furrowed.  He tilted his head, his arms falling to his sides, his head shaking slowly.  Then he walked away.  And Enjolras let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I'm late for even the two week time period I gave myself as a backup! Life's just been crazy. But, I hope you guys liked this chapter, I tried to get the tone right, and I think I listened to this song about a thousand times. Seriously. Anyway, leave comments and stuff and talk to me on tumblr if you want!


	4. Moving Too Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras gets his big break! Revolution waits for no man!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I'm back and ready for action!

Sure, it was early in the morning. Some might say an ungodly hour of the morning. His boyfriend might be included in that "some". But none of that really mattered to Enjolras. How could it, at a time like this?

So he pounded on Grantaire's door, his excitement boiling over as he saw the mop of unruly dark curls he loved so much. God, he loved that man. This man. His man. He pounced on Grantaire, kissing him so hard he almost fell over. By the time he was done, he was out of breath, eyes shining with excitement and bouncing up and down on his toes.

"Woah, who spiked your coffee this morning?" 

"Guess who just got picked up by the biggest legitimate journalistic organization to ever exist?" Enjolras pushed past Grantaire, practically jumping all around the room. In his frantic ecstasy he almost knocked over two paintings and a cup of paint water.

"Wait, Fauchelevent? Are you fucking with me? That's amazing! Oh my-"

A bust of Dionysus wavered and righted itself. "Okay, babe, you are dangerous in here. Come on, let's go for a walk."

The walk was more like a run for Grantaire. Enjolras already took longer strides than him, but add in how on-top-of-the-world happy he was? Forget it.

"He called me this morning!  _He_ called me! Himself! To talk about my article! About you! You're famous!" Enjolras stopped, turning to Grantaire with a huge grin on his face. God, R loved that look in his eyes. Like his whole world was filled up with light. Like Grantaire himself was part of that. It felt amazing. A bit like looking directly in the sun, but, amazing. Enjolras brought him in for a kiss. It was pure energy. Pure fire. 

It left Grantaire a bit singed. "You're the one who's famous, stupid." 

"Grantaire." God, did he have to focus all of his laser gaze on him? Did he not realize how distracting that was? "I love you."

"I... love you too-"

"No, no, Grantaire. I love you. I want you. I need you. I need you in my life. Everything's going so well. Everything's moving so fast. Too fast." Enjolras was talking too fast, too. Rambling. Rambling and staring and where was this going?

"Well, then slow down."

"No! No, mon amour. I don't want to stop or slow. Everything's going so right. Progress is alive, it's moving. And I'm helping it! I could make such a huge difference with Fauchelevent's platform behind me. It's what I've always wanted."

"Enj, I don't-"

"The job's in New York."

"Oh."  _He brought me all the way out to the middle of the park to break up with me._ "I understand. That's-that's-" Tears sprung to Grantaire's eyes.

"Come with me." He looked up to see Enjolras's laser gaze still burning a hole through him. "Come with me."

Grantaire couldn't breathe. His brain short circuited. Enjolras was standing there, expecting an answer. How was he supposed to think with an angel's gaze boring into him? God, that angel was so pretty and so smart. God, how he loved that angel.

He could paint in New York. He could live in New York. Live with his angel and paint and dance. Watch him change the world. The thought made him dizzy. The thought made him giddy.

"Okay."

 

 


	5. A Part of That

A group of well meaning and well rounded Ivy League graduates surrounded Grantaire. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he had skipped most of his university lectures and hadn't showered away the sculpting clay rubbed deep into his skin from last night. He'd been working on his latest artistic obsession (making pseudo-pearls out of object he picked up on the street) while Enj took phone calls. Amazing the amount of people who wanted just a piece of him, just to peek into the life that the prodigy Monsieur Enjolras lived. Enough that when they weren't swarming Enj at these high class mixers, they were swarming his boyfriend. 

"So what is it like, living with such genius?" A pushy, hook-nosed woman who was impeding on his space had had too many martinis to realize that she was being rude.

"Olivia!" Her husband, politely embarrassed on her behalf. "So sorry, um, Grant... I'm sorry, what is it again?" He gave Grantaire no time to correct him before continuing. "She just means, well, it seems like Enjolras _(pronounced perfectly, he's practiced that one)_ would be so entertaining to live with: his passion, his need for justice. And you only started living with him when you moved to NYC, isn't that correct? _(So, he's read the New York Times article on him too, the man has done his research.)_ Sorry, I'm rambling."

Grantaire opened his mouth to speak, noticing that the rest of the beautiful people seated daintily on the couches surrounding him had leaned in. So this is what they all wanted to hear. Olivia's husband was just the only one with the guts to ask. "Yeah, hmm... well, it was pretty normal, I mean, when we first got here. Moving boxes and eating cheerios with no spoons because all the spoons are in the bottom of a box somewhere, you know. Learning more english than 'The Eiffel Tower is that way'. For me, at least." They stared at him blankly. They want to hear about the  _genius_. He tried again. "Yeah, so usually it's just normal life, like you and Olivia over here. And then..." What will make these people stop staring at me like I am a specimen? "He goes off on..." An abstract waving of the hand. How French of him. "... wherever he goes. He gets an idea and..."

"And it's just like he's transported to another world?"

"That's exactly how I get when I write!"

"Me too, it's just like I can't think about anything else in the world! All that matters is the story, you know?"

Perfect. The fanatics were talking amongst themselves. Not that he didn't love that his boyfriend has fans. It's just... exhausting sometimes. He needed a break. They didn't give him one. 

"What is it like, to watch him- do that?"

Grantaire groaned internally. He missed his friends back home. What would Jehan tell him to do right now? He laughed at himself, his brain conjuring up a little cartoon Jean Prouvaire in his head, complete with floral jumpsuit and braided hair. Was he floating on a cloud while giving this advice? Probably. 'They want to hear about love, mon chou. Bring out that romantic Parisian side and show them how queer you really are." 

He let a smile creep out, half from the leftover image of Prouvaire, half from the thought of all those Tuesday afternoons spent looking over his canvas or his sculpture at that mop of golden curls bowed over a desk, typing furiously at his laptop, never fast enough to catch up with all the furious thoughts racing through his brain. Those Thursday mornings when he pops up from his desk and starts circling the apartment, shouting at Grantaire for all the bad in the world with a tone in his voice that means he'll stop it.  "He'll be humming, musing, scrolling through articles, flipping through newspapers... and then he'll stop, breath taken out of his lungs and somewhere, deep in the confines of this earth, whatever cause of whatever atrocity that he has found gets scared. Because suddenly there is this... being who has made up his mind that it will stop. That it will be known. And people will care. Because when he cares about something... god, the world might as well bow down." 

Olivia let out a high pitched hum. "I'd give my right knee for that kind of intensity to be fixed on me..." She sent a pointed look to her husband, who blushed sheepily.

Grantaire laughed airily. I guess... I guess it was kind of...amazing. 

"Absolutely, I mean, your article was the first one that Fauchelevent took interest in. And Enjolras has had such a fantastic career in the year since. You're a part of that."

"I'm a part of that." Grantaire muttered. It sounded so odd. He was just... a part in the making of Enjolras. Sounded clinical. A cog.

But then he looked over and caught his eye, a blonde curl escaped from the mounds of hair gel Grantaire had shoved through Enjolras's hair, breaking the line of vision. It made Enj laugh, or maybe something his colleague was saying did, but nonetheless a grin burst up and set Grantaire's whole world straight again. If his whole life was just a building block, well, how could he complain? When it amounted to something so beautiful? Grantaire heard Joly's voice in the back of his head, that little voice that always told him he was worth everything just as he was. As himself. But, his head argued back, this was different. This was Enjolras. And he was Enjolras's.  _That_ was what mattered.

He looked up again and tried to catch Enjolras's eye again, but he was too busy talking to Fauchelent and his daughter to look for his boyfriend. Grantaire got the feeling he wouldn't fit in in that crowd. They were saving the world. One article at a time. Remind him again what part he played? 

He hadn't realized the fan club had left him until a waiter asked if he wanted another drink. He took one.

 

 


	6. The Schmuel Song

Enjolras heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking, and he stood up, instantly happier. Grantaire was home. "Hey babe!" No answer. The rustling of keys, a bag, heavy shoes being tugged off and tossed on the floor. "Taire? How's it going? Get some good tips?" He worked nights at a bar to make ends meet, since his art hadn't been selling so well lately... well, ever. 

Grantaire appeared in his range of vision, hat and coat soaked with snow and hair even more amiss than usual. Taire kept his eyes carefully focused on a spot in the floor in front of him as he trod past Enjolras into the kitchen. "Well, at least you look pretty!" Enj called out hopefully.

A crashing noise, then a harsh "Shit!" Oh. It was one of those nights.

"But hey, you have a meeting with that collector tomorrow, right?"

Grantaire reentered the room, flopping down on the couch with a bottle of wine and a full baguette. Comfort food, the French way. He tore into the bread and didn't bother to swallow before answering. "The one  _you_ got for me? Yeah, I think I'm going to cancel."

Enjolras decided to ignore the first implication. Another day. "What? You can't cancel! Why would you-"

"It's not like I'm going to get it anyway. Haven't gotten anything else."

Enj tried to grab Grantaire's hands, but he jerked them away. "Mon amour, you are so talented. You just have to wait for the right buyer."

Grantaire looked dully at Enj. "Yeah, well, at some point you just have to accept that it's never going to happen. Time's up." He pushed himself away from Enjolras miserably. 

Enjolras was out of options. But he felt in his gut that this night- this moment was crucial for the man standing in front of him. He had to get him to change his mind. He saw hope seeping out of Grantaire so vividly it might have been blood- and he had to stop it. So... he started to sing. And, it has to be said: Enjolras is  _not_ a good singer. But he belted out some dumb made up song about a tailor named Schmuel with all the heart and joy of a Broadway star. He danced into Grantaire's studio, in full view of R, picking up brushes to use as drumsticks as he went along. Enj was also not a drummer. 

Grantaire was caught up in his own head. He was a little envious watching his boyfriend skip around the apartment. It seemed like whenever Enjolras felt down about something, he channeled it into energy- fuel for his work. All Taire's sadness made him want to do was lay down forever. The thought _"this isn't helping"_ kept racing through his mind. The weight of the day and all the thoughts swirling around inside pressed down on him so that Enj's lighthearted humor seemed alien and far away. He watched Enj pick up all his supplies and winced. "Why do you have to mess with all my stuff..." Then instantly wanted to punch himself for how ungrateful he was. Look at this beautiful man trying to cheer him up. Why couldn't he be happy?

Enjolras grabbed Taire's hand and pulled him up, having to use all of his strength to pull him against his agressive slouching in the opposite direction. Taire didn't give up his protest once he was standing, he fell directly into Enjolras and forced himself to go limp. Enjolras laughed under the dead weight, making a pitiful show to continue dancing. Eventually Taire had to stand on his own, if just for pity for Enj's gangly body supporting his bulk. "Enj, I-" 

"Shhhh, just do it. Come on!" He started singing again. Grantaire groaned and gave in. They danced around the apartment, Enjolras leading until he could feel Grantaire moving with him instead of letting himself be dragged. Enjolras finally let his boyfriend sit down again, but returned to the chair he left him in almost immediately, laden with Christmas decorations. He grinned at R's wary expression, plopping a Santa hat haphazardly on his head. Enj wrapped a strand of tinsel around Taire's neck and pulled him closer, straddling him. " _Nananananananananana oh Taire You get to be happy_ " he sung softly. _"Nananananananananana I give you unlimited time."_  He finally pulled a smile out of Grantaire and celebrated with a giggle, revealing mistletoe from behind his back and holding it above their heads. Grantaire let out a laugh and yanked Enjolras in for a kiss. 

"I give you unlimited time." Enj whispered. "So go! Go be happy! And...Take your time." He leaned in for a softer kiss, grappling on the table behind Taire for the business card of the gallery owner. He found it finally and slipped it into Taire's hoodie pocket. As he pulled away, he murmured, "Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading! I'm thinking this fic should have a chapter for every song from the musical.  
> Leave your thoughts or whatever, I'm on tumblr at capable-of-being-terrible and I'd love to hear from you!


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